


like i'm gonna lose you (i'm gonna love you)

by ratsauce



Series: Neurodivergent Direction [2]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Borderline Personality Disorder, Brotherly Love, Crying, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Mental Breakdown
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-27
Updated: 2015-08-27
Packaged: 2018-04-17 14:29:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4670096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ratsauce/pseuds/ratsauce
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Maybe five years apart messed up their dynamic.</i><br/>(It obviously has.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	like i'm gonna lose you (i'm gonna love you)

**Author's Note:**

> Reposting bc the first try was a failure.

Harry doesn't take very good care of himself, Edward has come to realise over the years.

As a child, Harry would never go to their mum if he fell and scraped the skin clean off his knee. Only when he got an infection and a subsequent fever did it come up, and by then, all that could be done was to dose him up on antibiotics and tell him to be more careful next time.

When they were in first form, Harry had started skipping meals. Said that the pudge around his stomach needed to go. Edward found out a day later that some bloke from sixth form said something to him, and he fought him.

Then Edward had to be put on pain medication for the concussion he got. But he recovered pretty quickly, and when he went back to school after his six days suspension topped with his seven days rest, the sixth former wasn't there.

Harry started eating again to stop Edward from getting hurt.

 

As a teen, Harry came out to his family about being gay. Their mum was fine, only told him to use protection. Robin stopped speaking to him for a minute, but Edward gave him a look from where he was standing over Harry's slouched form.

Robin had looked up at him, then at Harry, and sighed. After a moment, he offered Harry a tentative smile, and that was it.

 

A year after, when Harry was as happy as he'd ever been, and Edward just as much, some fuck at their school said something about Harry being a fag while Edward was in earshot. Edward had to switch schools so the parent wouldn't sue theirs.

Harry stopped eating again after Edward settled at his new school. At that point, the only thing Edward could think of doing was to join him.

 

They went a month or so like that before Harry cried and told him that he didn't want to hurt him.

Which is when Edward really thought. Whenever he got scraped when they were younger, Harry himself would clean it up and bandage it. Whenever Robin would get on Edward's case for absolute rubbish, Harry'd be the one to put his hands over his ears and let him hide in his perpetually cinnamon-scented jumper. Harry didn't care one bit about himself, but he cared for Edward. Edward cried and told Harry that if he hurts himself, he hurts him as well.

 

Harry went on X-Factor after Edward's last suspension, and didn't come back. Edward lost it then, and he fought everyone that walked too near to him for the next two years until school kicked him out.

Harry never called, not once, and the only things Edward heard about him were in the rags.

 

Their mum looked like she was sick of dealing with him after a year of being home from school, sixth form being next had he not been kicked out, so he moved out.

Eventually, he ends up in Northwich, then Knutsford by the time he's twenty. He's still had no word from his brother, and he's almost completely forgotten about him. He has a pretty decent flat, pretty decent friends, pretty decent job. He's been fine.

But Harry isn't, apparently.

 

Edward sees a picture of his brother, no filters, no nothing, and he can bloody well see the bags under his eyes. And he remembers that when he's had a bad day, he doesn't sleep. Edward hates going under the covers because they wrap too tight around him, but on the nights where Harry couldn't sleep, he would climb into Edward's bed and hide under his sheets, and Edward would join him. Because Harry wouldn't allow him to suffocate.

Harry is Bipolar, and Edward is Borderline. They clash. Which is why Edward has made no effort to contact his brother this whole time.

When he sees the picture of Harry, Edward dials the number Harry had when they were younger, and of course it's the same one he uses now.

When the ringing stops and the line opens, Harry doesn't say anything.

"What the fuck, Harry? Why haven't you even called-"

Harry hangs up on him. Edward stares at his phone for nine seconds exactly before throwing it as far as he can, smashing it to bits on the wall ahead of him. The other patrons in the café he's in look up and stare at him, but he doesn't give a fuck.

 

One Direction is in Luxembourg. Edward hates French because he failed it as a teen.

Edward calls someone who knows someone who knows someone and gets Simon's number. His and Harry's voice are al pretty similar, so when Simon picks up, the first thing he asks was if 'Harry' had a cold.

 

Simon gives Edward Preston's number. Preston gives him the hotel they're staying at.

Edward arrives and is greeted by the tall one, Liam Payne, when he steps out of the lift on their floor.

Edward's hair is much shorter than Harry's, and he wears it differently than Harry had even when it was that length, so when Liam sees him, he frowns a bit. He glances down at Edward's arms and the frown deepens.

"Who the fuck are you, mate?" he asks, and Harry rolls his eyes because of course Harry didn't tell any of them about him.

"Harry's brother. Where is he?" Edward asks, already moving to step around the other lad. He doesn't stop him.

"Him, Niall and Louis are out." he says slowly. "Harry never said anything about him having a brother."

Edward faces him. "D'you have your phone on you?"

Liam studies him for a bit before reaching into the pocket of his joggers. "Yeah," he says. "Here."

He unlocks it and hands it to him.

Harry picks up on the first ring with an over-enthusiastic "hey" that sounds like it would have like ten y's if it were typed.

"Sweet prince," he says, and he hears the hitch in Harry's breath. "We need to talk. I'm at Sofitel. Don't make me wait."

He ends the call there, even though he knows it's gonna trigger all sorts of anxiety in his brother, but he feels himself losing his grip on the last bits of his self-control and he doesn't want to snap at him over the phone.

Edward hands Liam his phone back, peers at the doors lining the walkway. "Which one of these is his?"

 

For the entire sixteen minutes and thirty-seven seconds Edward waits, he successfully manages not to rip apart everything in Harry's hotel room.

He hears Harry fumbling around on the other side of the door and sits up in the middle of the bed, and counts exactly how long it takes him to slide a piece of fucking plastic through the lock.

It takes fifteen seconds for the little beep to sound, and another six for Harry to finally step in to the room. When he does, he doesn't look up. Edward sighs and digs his nails into the palms of his hands to stop himself from punching him.

Harry looks so fucking frail, is the thing. He's skinny and there are rings under his eyes and his hair is breaking and he knows that not only because he can see it but because of how much hair was in his brush that he left on the bedside cabinet.

Neither of them say anything for a while, and Edward can almost hear him contemplating just backing up and going back through the door.

"I'm sorry." Harry says after two minutes and nine seconds of painful silence.

"What was that?" Edward says, and he catches the way Harry flinches a bit.

"I'm sorry," he says again, and this time he looks up at him. Edward inhales and exhales slowly, the way his therapist tells him to do.

He took his Risperdal but not his Zyprexa and he feels off. "I haven't heard from you in five fucking years, you prick."

Edward knows that Harry hasn't been taking his medication, either, because they're still at their mum's house in Homes Chapel.

Harry's arm twitches where it's behind his back, fingers undoubtedly hovering over the handle of the door he's yet to move away from. "Yeah. I know. That's what I'm sorry about."

Edward twitches, this time, and he lifts a trembling hand to pinch the bridge of his nose. "Haz. You could have fucking  _called."_  he says, completely exasperated.

 

 

 

"I was calling mum," Harry mumbles. "I thought she would have given you updates and that."

"I shouldn't need updates from mum, Harry. You're my  _brother."_  Edward says, trying his best to keep his voice level.

Harry goes silent for twelve seconds, maybe thirteen, then says, "You could have called, too, y'know?"

And. What?

"What?" Edward says, and he feels his chest tighten up with the expectation of blowing his cool. "Why the fuck would I call when you were the one who fucking left, you arsehole?"

Harry scowls. "If you saw that I wasn't calling then you could have made the effort. If it was that important."

"Once again, you left. You should call me to at least let me know you're okay."

"I've been busy."

"Bullshit. Not busy enough to make one call and definitely not constantly busy for five years."

"What do you know, mate? I could-"

"I don't know anything, actually, because you haven't been telling me jackshit."

Harry's scowl deepens. "Don't cut me off, Ed."

"Mate, if you haven't realised the irony in what you just said, let me just give you a second to reflect."

Harry stops talking and glares at him like he's the offender. "I didn't want to cut you off."

"You did, though." Edward sighs, sliding off the edge of the bed and planting his feet on the carpeted floor. "None of your little bandmates even know that I exist. Your fans don't know. Your management doesn't."

"I'm sorry, Ed." Harry says, and Edward stops to look his brother straight in the eye. He sees the regret there. But Harry knows, knows what he did, knows how much it fucked Edward up. He can't just let it go.

"That's not enough," Edward begins, and Harry's shoulders slump. "You hurt me, Haz. You fucking broke me."

"Ed-"

"They fucking kicked me out of school because my temper was too much of an issue."

"Ed, I-"

"Mum basically kicked me out, too." Edward makes sure not to give Harry a moment to say anything. "All because you were so fucking busy."

"I was fucking busy, you fucking arse!" Harry yells, finally stepping further into the room and closer to Edward.

"Busy doing what, Harry? Doing the one thing you've been dreaming of for years, living the best life, surrounded by people who love you? That's what you've been busy with?"

"No. I've been busy going to fucking therapy every bloody day trying to get better."

Edward falters, watches the vein on Harry's temple throb. "Your meds are still at home."

"I know. They stopped working. When I went on X Factor I got more."

"Why would you need new fucking meds?"

Harry freezes, and he looks down at the scuffed suede of his boots.

"I'm a borderline, Ed." he says after a minute and Edward can see him wringing his fingers even behind his back. "I was misdiagnosed."

Edward should think about what he does next, but he doesn't.

"Awesome, mate. Welcome to my world." he says, offering him a tight lipped smile..

Harry rolls his eyes. "Fuck you, Ed."

And really. His reaction is reasonable. But Edward isn't reasonable.

"Mate, fuck you too. Honestly. You more than anyone understands what it feels like when I'm left alone the way you left me. You  _know_  how fucking hopeless and helpless I feel if someone I've loved and cared for for  _years_  just up and leaves! And you didn't do anything to remedy that!"

"My fucking therapist thought it would be better to leave my past behind!" Harry yells, and Edward has to step back so he doesn't punch him in the face.

He turns his back to him, squeezes his eyes shut and digs his hails further into the bruised skin of his palms, gritting out, "I'm not your goddamn past, Harry! I'm the present, the future. Everything! You can't just fucking forget about me!"

"I didn't have a bloody choice, Edward. It was either that or-"

"Leaving your brother to fucking suffer is much worse than anything you could possibly say."

Harry stops, and the sudden silence makes the tension in the room all that more obvious. "It was either that, or not being in the band."

Edward whips around. "And of fucking course you chose the fucking band! They don't care about you the way I do, Haz. They're temporary!"

"They're my brothers!"

" _I'm_ your brother!" Edward grounds out, and moves back to where he was originally. "Have you fucking forgotten?"

Harry exhales shakily, lifts his left hand to his face. Edward spots a hint of blood on the side of his thumb as well as under the nail.

"You come in here, fucking yelling at me, making me feel like shit, without even finding out if I'm okay." Harry says quietly, dropping his hand to his side. Edward notes the twitch of the fingers on his left hand, and watches carefully. "I've been dealing with my own shit, Ed, but I know it never even occurred to you to fucking check up on me, did it?"

"I thought you about every day! But you clearly wanted to move on," Edward trails off, and he feels the initial sting of tears welling up in his eyes. He curses himself; he's never the one to cry first. Maybe five years apart messed up their dynamic. 

It obviously has.

Harry's expression softens when his notices. "Eddy," he says, quietly, and takes a tentative step forward.

"No. Don't even-." Edward says, wiping at his eyes in a desperate attempt to ignore how much he just wants to curl into a ball on the floor. Harry's started picking side of his thumb on his left hand now, but Edward doesn't stop him. 

"I don't think you fucking get how important you are to me, Harry. I love you with all my heart and soul,  but you make that a fucking task when you just leave for five whole bloody years."

Harry flinches again. "I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry, Ed. I didn't think. I wish I did, but I didn't. And I'm sorry."

Edward needs to get on whatever fucking medication Harry's on, because he said all that straightfaced, no tears whatsoever, while Edward is about two seconds away from punching straight through the plaster wall.

The sincerity in his words are still there, though.

But, Edward can't just leave it there. After what felt like hours of arguing with his brother, there's no way he can just end it here.

"You made a promise to me, Haz. After we both went in to get our psych evals." Edward sees the twitch in Harry's fingers. "You said that we'd take care of each other, just like we'd been doing for years prior."

Harry smiles a bit, despite himself. 

Edward continues, "So why then, Harold, did you let a new diagnosis change that?" 

The exact moment that his smile falters is as clear as daylight.

"Did you think I wasn't gonna love you anymore?" 

"I-." Harry starts, but his voice cracks.

"I'll never stop loving you. You're my fucking brother." Edward says, closing the distance between himself and Harry.

There's a moment where neither of them say anything, and Harry looks like a deer caught in Edward's headlights because he knows he's right, before Harry just falls in to Edward's chest.

"I-I'm sorry," Harry hiccups, clutching desperately at Edward's sweatshirt, breaths coming out in harsh pants against Edward's neck, right under his ear.

"I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry. God, I'm so-. I'm so fucking  _dumb._ Fuck," he says, and shit, he's hyperventilating. Shit.

"H, it's okay. I'm not mad. I promise I'm not mad at you." Edward rushes out, wrapping his arms around the width of his back and pulling him closer.

Edward knows that this, Harry's panic, is directly co-related to what he did, what he said, and how it said it, and makes his attempts at rectifying that frantic.

He tries to focus on keeping himself grounded. "Haz. Prince. Just-" Edward pauses, prying Harry's hands away from where he's scratching red lines up and down his own arms. "C'mon, babe, just keep your hands here, yeah?" Edward grunts, fighting Harry to get his hands up and his palms flat on his chest.

They're shaking badly, and Edward hopes it prevents Harry from feeling how his heart is pounding just as much as his.

"Focus on my breaths," Edward says, willing himself to calm the fuck down, for the both of them. "Breathe with me, okay, babe? Just breathe with me."

Harry's pushing at his chest, telling him that he can't, he just can't, but Edward persists, taking big, exaggerated breaths in and equally exaggerated breaths out.

Harry makes this awful bloody sound, like someone kicked him in the gut and the bollocks at the same time. Edward cringes, squeezing Harry's hands in his.

"I can't," Harry gasps out, frantic.  _"Ican'tIcan'tIcan'tIcan'tIcan't,"_

 "Okay, babe. Okay," Edward's mind is reeling. "Just focus on me, okay? Only me."

Harry looks confused for a bit but he pulls back, looking straight into Edward's eyes.  _Their eyes._

"Perfect, okay. You're okay. I'm right here and you're okay. Alright?" Edward says. "I'm not going anywhere."

Harrry's shoulders slump as he exhales, ragged in a way that rattles his chest.

"There you go. You're okay," Edward sighs, mostly to himself, and leans in so their foreheads touch.

"I didn't-." Harry stops to swallow. "I thought you were tired of me, Ed. Thought you'd see how pathetic I am. I couldn't-"

Harry stops again with a hitched inhale and Edward stops him, tells him that, "I'm not mad, Haz. I was hurt, yeah? But I'm over it now, I'm okay. _We're_  okay."

Harry whines a little, pulls his arms from between their body and out of Edward's grasp, wrapping them around his body so they meet at the small of his back.

"I hate clichés." Harry mumbles, and Edward finds himself laughing, loud and genuine.

He realises then that even though he's tricked himself into believing that he's been okay, he honestly hasn't. What Harry did broke him, but he now has the option to mend all the different cracks in his mental state. 

Harry smiles at him, tear tracks running over flushed cheeks, and Edward continues laughing, finally reunited with his little shit of a brother.

There's a moment's pause before Harry says, "Did mum really kick you out?" 

Edward looks away, sighs, then offers Harry a small smile. "Not really, but. I wasn't gonna wait until she did, yeah?"

 

 

Three hours later, Edward, Harry, and Harry's bandmates have all met up, and are currently spread out on the floor of Harry's hotel room, cups and bottles a like strewn over the carpet. They're all pleasantly buzzed, happy smiles on each of their faces.

Edward likes them all: Niall who's loud and happy and has a laugh more contagious than chicken pox, Liam who is careful, who'd quietly observed Edward when Harry formally introduced him to them but is a pretty cool bloke when he's gotten some liquor in him.

Louis gives off a vibe, though. Edward doesn't know what it is just yet, but he makes sure to keep his distance until he does.

They're all still laughing over some joke that should have gone stale by now when Edward says, "Whichever one of you told him," he points to Harry, "that growing his hair out would have been a good idea, we need to talk."

Everyone starts laughing again, Niall actually falling over, half-empty bottle of Fireball toppling over with him.

"I actually find that very offensive,  _Eddy."_  Harry sticks his tongue out at him, flicks his hair out his face petulantly.

"It looks great, Haz," mumbles Louis, leaning closer to Harry in kind of private, intimate way.

For the first time, Edward really looks at Louis. With his tiny form and fluffy hair and alarmingly blue eyes. He's curled up close against Harry's side, their legs tangled together and a blanket thrown over their thighs, Louis' head on Harry's shoulder.

Harry catches Edward staring at them and raises his eyebrow. Edward copies him, eyes darting down to Louis, then to the door.

Harry understands immediately, and as soon as Edward stands up from where he's been leaning his back against the bed, Harry's up too, a steady, gentle hand on Louis' leg when he's asked where he's going.

None of them seem to pay attention to them as Edward opens the door, stepping out into the too-warm walkway, Harry following.

Edward turns, looking at Harry with a sly smile.

"How long've you been fuckin'im?"

**Author's Note:**

> [depression/self harm recovery](http://www.sky-reader.tumblr.com/) blog here if you need it, and the urls for my other blogs [](http://sky-reader.tumblr.com/others>here</a>.)


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